


every second passing (reminds me i'm not home)

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Series: only fools fall [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Unrequited Love, alina and deniss are friends and confidants, steph and daniil also make brief appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 05:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18218741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river. --sikendeniss struggles at an inopportune time.





	every second passing (reminds me i'm not home)

**Author's Note:**

> i have really no excuse for this, i was emo about deniss sitting alone at the fs draw and steph lurking in the background on his phone so this whole mess kinda ... spewed out. pretend practice schedules and things like that don't exist. ((for future reference, this is worlds in saitama 2019))
> 
> obviously, this is all fiction. as a reminder, i don't ship den and alina and this series will not be looking at that relationship in a romantic sense. 
> 
> TW: passing implications of canon-typical homophobia 
> 
> set approximately between sp and fs, all canon timelines have been ignored.

After the draw for the free program skate order, Deniss finds himself in his hotel room alone. He’s supposed to be sharing with Stephane, but Chris had managed to wrangle up a king suite somewhere in the same hotel on his own money, so why should Stephane bother staying in the cramped double room paid for by the ISU?

Deniss is grateful for the solace. He has a couple hours before he’s meant to meet Stephane and Chris for dinner. His head is still spinning, thoughts trying to break free and spill out, but he can’t let himself break until after the free, at least. He wishes he’d brought his drawing pencils with him, but he didn’t anticipate _needing_ them like this. He’s only got a little sketchbook and a couple of normal pencils, but he doesn’t want to spill his thoughts into that, because he wants it intact but he can’t keep these sketches. He just can’t. The blank pad by the phone on the nightstand stares at him, and he reaches for it, his hands shaking with… something. Anxiety? Adrenaline? Anticipation? He doesn’t know.

He grabs a pencil. It’s dull, but he realizes that he doesn’t mind it. Its lines are fuzzy, reflecting the tangle of thoughts in his head. He lets go and draws.

His fingers are quick to mark out a rough face, a familiar jawline taking shape with little thought. Cheekbones. Nose. Eyebrows, furrowed critically. Eyes, analyzing, cataloguing, empty of emotion.  Lips, pressed in a thin, frustrated line.

Deniss throws the pencil down and rips the sheet out of the pad, staring at the new white paper on the desk. He starts again.

Jawline. Cheekbones. Nose.

Hesitates when he gets to the features. Slows down. The gentle arch of a half-smile, soft eyes, eyebrows raised slightly, teasing. His hand doesn’t want to cooperate, and he growls in frustration. Tears spring up unbidden, and he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He _knows_ he skated poorly. He _knows_ he didn’t deserve a hug after. He’d been hoping, though, really hoping that Stephane might have at least sat with him during the draw like he usually did.

_Deni, I promised to check in with Chris before the draw, so go ahead and sit down. I’ll join you if I can._

Deniss had nodded, hopeful. He’d found a couple of seats a little removed, somewhere near the back. Stephane never really liked sitting in the front, because the media would be the media and a big name like him was always more interesting than some of the newer senior skaters. As people filed in, Deniss called hello to Matteo, who waved at him and gestured asking if Deniss would like to come up and sit next to him. Deniss just shrugged and Matteo grinned amiably, turning to talk to someone next to him. Deniss thought it might be Keegan, but he couldn’t tell from his angle. A tap on Deniss’ shoulder made him jump, and he’d turned to see Misha.

 _Hi Deniss,_ Misha said as Deniss stood to hug him. There was the usual _kiss, kiss, kiss_ to each other’s cheeks before Deniss sat back down. Deniss saw one of the Americans, V-something, he thought, watching them closely. He ignored it.

_Are you sitting alone?_

_No, I think Steph is coming to sit with me in a bit._

Misha smiled knowingly. _Okay. Sasha wants me to sit with him, so I’ll be over there if you want to join us._

_Thanks, Misha._

And Misha had moved off, across the rows of chairs and people and cameras.

Stephane never came to sit with him.

As they rode back to the hotel, Deniss had done a quick scroll of twitter and saw that Stephane hadn’t been _un_ able to make it in time, because he was in the back with some of the press, engrossed in something on his phone, face dark with something Deniss couldn’t identify. 

Deniss’ stomach had seized, and he fought to keep his face blank. It’s not like Stephane would’ve noticed anyways, because he was busy squinting at something on his phone. Deniss had seen enough of the screen to catch his own yellow pants against white ice, and he shifted his gaze quickly. When they’d arrived, Stephane had disappeared up the elevator with barely a confirmation of the time they would be meeting in the lobby.

Deniss can only hope, ironically, bitterly, that Chris will fuck some understanding into Stephane. Because as much as it hurts to be in love with his married coach, it hurts more when that coach won’t even stand to be seen with him. He just wants to know that Stephane hasn’t given up on him. He just wants to know that Stephane’s love and care for him aren’t entirely contingent on his success.

But maybe that’s too much to ask.

His hand cramps and he grits his teeth, putting the pencil down and shaking his hand out. He’s burned through three of the small sheets, four counting the first one. He can barely stand to look at them. These are not beautiful, not even in the unique, raw way his usual Stephane drawings are. They’re sloppy and smudged and full of sharp angles, harsh lines. They’re of Stephane when he’s angry, when he’s frustrated, when he thinks Deniss isn’t putting his everything into the practice or the competition or the workouts. They stare up at Deniss, disapproving and cold, and Deniss instantly wants to apologize. To whom, he doesn’t know. To Stephane, of paper and graphite. To Stephane, of flesh and blood. To himself, maybe.

He picks up his phone. He needs to get rid of these before everyone comes in here tonight for the usual pep talk/strategy meeting they’ve been doing nightly.

From Deniss: _Are you in the same hotel as me?_

From Alina: _I’m not sure. Where are you?_

From Deniss: _The one that’s like ten minutes from the main rink, with the super extravagant front entrance decorations._

From Alina: _Ah, yeah, I am. Did something happen? Are you okay?_

From Deniss: _I have new things for you to hold onto._

From Alina: _So soon?_

Deniss grimaces, and he can only imagine the surprise on Alina’s face. This is out of the ordinary for him, he knows that. And she knows that.

From Deniss: _I’m trying to figure out how to drop it off without someone seeing. I can only imagine the scandal if someone saw me sneaking to the room of Miss Olympic Gold Medalist._

From Alina: _Ahahahahah_

From Alina: _I’ve got my own room, and I think most people of the people on my floor are out sightseeing right now. I’m room 736, just knock when you get here._

From Deniss:  _Alright. See you in a few._

Deniss slips his sneakers on, pulling a plain grey hoodie over his t-shirt. He rolls the sketches carefully in a blank sheet, and tucks them in his pocket along with his phone and room key. Scanning the hallway quickly, he catches an elevator going up and nods in greeting at its only other occupant, who’s tall and lanky and dressed in something similar to his own clothes – sweatshirt, sweatpants, flip flops, a city map tucked under their arm. A tourist, then.

“I like your braids,” he says to them as the elevator doors close.

“Thanks!” They blush and wrinkle their nose. “I like your… clothes.”

Deniss laughs despite himself. “We’re matching! Elevator twins!”

He bumps fists with his new friend as the elevator slows to the seventh floor. “Well, this is me. Nice to meet you, have a nice day!”

“You too!”

Deniss finds his way to the right corridor, startling when the door next to Alina’s opens and Daniil steps out. He seems surprised to see Deniss there, pausing.

“You are… Deniss, right?” In careful, accented English.

Shit, this is the second worst person who could’ve caught him. Deniss nods slowly.

“Yes.” Deniss risks Russian, hoping it’ll put the man at ease. “Deniss Vasiljevs.”

“You’re the one that mails to Ali all the time,” Daniil says in rapid-fire Russian, and Deniss struggle to keep up, trying to switch into his Russian-mind. “All the big envelopes.”

Deniss nods again. Daniil isn’t done, with his questions though, and Deniss wonders if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“What do you send her? Why so often?”

Deniss decides the truth is better than trying to uphold a lie at this point.

“It’s my drawings. She keeps them for me.”

“And you don’t keep them at home because…?”

“I… I can’t risk someone finding them.”

Daniil seems to soften, just a little.  

“Drawing pretty girls, are you?” It feels like a test.

“No, sir. Not girls.” The words slip out before Deniss can stop them, and he wonders if he’s just fucked it all up. God, even his own parents don’t know that he prefers the company of men, let alone a complete stranger that works with one of the toughest training teams in the world and has the power to completely ruin his career with a few well-placed words.

Daniil looks him up and down for a moment, calculating. Deniss fights the urge to shiver. Daniil, to his surprise, doesn’t snap at him to leave or anything. Instead, he nods slightly. “Okay. Go. She’s a lonely girl, and you make her smile. Eteri will be back later today, but you have a few hours, if you’d like to keep Ali company for a bit. I will check in soon.”

Deniss nods one more time and turns when Alina’s door opens.

“Deniss? Daniil?”

Daniil just waves at her and disappears down the corridor. Deniss watches him go, slightly confused as to what the entire fuck just happened.

“Deniss? Coming in?” Alina’s soft voice, barely above a whisper, breaks him out of his trance.

“Um, yeah, coming.”

Alina beams at him when she closes and bolts the door. She opens her arms for a hug, and Deniss accepts it gratefully. He worries about her every time he hugs her, can feel every line of her ribcage under his fingers, but there’s nothing he can do about it except hug her tighter.

“You alright?” Alina asks when they separate. She flops down on the unmade bed, and Deniss perches tentatively on the end.

“I mean… Define alright.” Deniss lets his focus drift around the room for a moment. It’s neat enough. There are some bottles, hair pins, and makeup palettes scattered on the desk, but otherwise everything seems to be relatively contained. Alina’s wearing a sweater over what might be her training leggings, but Deniss can’t really tell the difference between those and the ordinary leggings girls seem to be so fond of. He wonders if there really is a difference.

“Hey, Deniss,” Alina snaps her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Deniss, are you there?”

“Sorry. Yeah. I’m here.” Deniss really has to stop doing this. He’s kind of on a time limit, after all. He glances at his watch. He’s got a decent amount of time before he needs to meet Stephane and Chris for dinner, but he did want to shower before then.

“You said you had more things to give me?”

Deniss pulls the drawings out. They’re a little crinkled, so he smooths them out gingerly and watches as Alina picks each one up and studies it carefully. When she’s finished, she sandwiches them into what might be her journal, placing it back on the nightstand.

“Oh, Deniss,” she sighs, shifting so she’s sitting up against the headboard. She pats the empty spot next to her. “Come here.”

Deniss hesitates, unsure of the etiquette of sitting next to a girl, on a bed, in a hotel room. He wonders if there’s a certain amount of distance he should leave between them or if she even cares at all.

“Relax, Den, I know you’re not going to be gross about it. Just come here. You need a cuddle.” Alina rolls her eyes at him, and he has no idea how she makes that motion comforting, but she does.

And honestly, Deniss thinks a cuddle sounds really nice. Of course, he wishes it were Stephane cuddling him and not Alina, but he’ll take what he can get at this point.

Once Alina’s somehow manhandled him such that he’s halfway lying in her lap, head resting on her thigh, Deniss finds that it’s not so hard to just talk and let all of his thoughts come out.

“I know I didn’t skate well. I barely qualified for the free, for fuck’s sake. But today was the first skate in a long time that I didn’t get a hug after. It sounds really stupid, but like…”

“It’s not stupid, Den, keep going,” Alina interrupts gently. Deniss distantly feels her hand start petting his hair, slowly and cautiously.

“I don’t know, Alina, I just feel like recently, especially, he just doesn’t care about me. I know that’s not true, in theory, but he’s always distracted. He’s always doing something else or thinking about other things. I get that he has a lot going on, but even for Emmi and Matilda, he’s always paying full attention whenever they need anything. And it hurts a little bit, because I’ve been with him for… almost three years now, and it never used to be like this.”

“Have you talked to him about it?” Alina asks, hand still moving steadily, slowly, combing through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. He wonders if it’s as soothing for her as it is for him. He knows she always misses her pets when she’s travelling.

Deniss shrugs. “It’s not like I can just go up to him and say ‘Steph, I think you don’t pay me enough attention’, you know?”

“Right, but have you just sat down with him and told him how you’ve felt lately?”

“I can’t. I’m scared that if I try to tell him just part of it, all of it will come spilling out like I did to Daniil,” Deniss sighs. Alina’s hand pauses.

“What did you say?”

“I don’t remember exactly, something about my drawings not being girls. I might have outed myself if he picks up on those things.”

Alina hums, her hand starting its calming motion again. “Of all the people you could have outed yourself to, he’s the least of your worries.”

“Why?” Deniss has a sneaking suspicion as to why, but he doesn’t want to be the one to say it, lest he’s wrong.

Alina shakes her head a little. “The girls at Sambo… We’ve talked about him a lot. He’s never had a girlfriend that we’ve met, and he shares an apartment with some male university friend of his that as far as we know, is also single. They’ve been roommates since before I came, and Zhenya says they have lived together since university.”

“Oh.” It’s not exactly a confirmation, but in the skating world, this is the kind of open secret that is all too common. Stephane and Chris lived together for ages, after all, before anyone ever knew they’d married. Or at least that’s what Deniss knows of. He doesn’t know what or who to trust when it comes to these things anymore

“Yeah.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, listening to the whirring of the air conditioner in the corner and the distant laughter from some room down the hall. Deniss wonders what Stephane could be up to, but banishes the thought from his mind and tries to focus on the steady brushing of Alina’s fingers through his hair instead. It’s oddly hypnotic.

\--

Alina watches as Deniss falls asleep in her lap, head lolled away from her. It’s not what she intended to do, but the poor boy needs the sleep. He’s been through too many emotional ups and downs recently, and she wishes she could’ve helped more. She picks up her phone and texts Daniil to let himself in when he’s back. Deniss stirs momentarily, and she drops her hand back to his hair, stroking his bangs to the side of his face so they don’t fall in his eyes. He seems to relax back into sleep, and Alina wants to fight Stephane. Clearly , all Deniss needs right now is some human contact, not long skating talks or movies or anything else. He just needs to be held, and by god, Alina’s going to do that for him as best as she can.

When Daniil comes in, Alina smiles ruefully at him, casually shifting her hand down to the bed.

“He needs the rest.”

“I see that. When he wakes up, see that he gets my number in his phone, will you? Tell him to let me know whenever he sends you something so I can make sure it gets to you.”

Alina raises an eyebrow. “Okay?” This is unusual of Daniil, to say the least.

“You know how much trouble you’d be in if Eteri knew about this. I’m trying to protect you, Ali,” Daniil says insistently. Alina puts a finger to her lips, glancing down to make sure Deniss is still asleep.

“If you go through my shit…” Alina trails off. She and Daniil both know that she has no power in this situation, and she’s mad about it. There’s nothing she can do, though.

“I promise you I won’t.”

Alina stares at him for a long moment. “Thank you.”

Daniil nods. “Eteri will be coming around in about two hours. Best if he’s out fifteen minutes before then.”

“Mmkay.”

Daniil leaves the room and Alina sighs.

She looks down at the sleeping boy in her lap and not for the first time wishes she could protect him from all the sadness he’s shared with his drawings. Her drawer at home contains dozens of sheets of paper, all sketches of Stephane during various moments in time spanning a million emotions, but none of them even begin to approach the amount of anguish that was in these newest sketches.

Alina is familiar with cold shoulders, disapproving stares, and on occasion, even Eteri leaving the rink altogether when she doesn’t perform, but Deniss isn’t. She’s pretty sure it’s not nearly as bad as what came out onto the paper, but she knows that whatever it really is, it’s got to be hurting Deniss a lot. It normally takes so much to break him. Even once he's reached that point though, he can usually keep it together until after he gets home. She wants to protect him with all her heart. He doesn’t deserve the pain he feels, and she wishes she could take it away from him, but she can’t.

All she can do now is make sure he sleeps a little longer, so she starts brushing through his soft hair again.

 

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! please let me know if you'd like to possibly read more of this friendship/this series by leaving a comment or kudos! :D


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